


Looking Back

by Deathy058



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, No Smut, Suicide, Time Travel, Tragedy/Comedy, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 06:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17913221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathy058/pseuds/Deathy058
Summary: See Max Caulfield's life in the year 2019 reversed to Arcadia Bay in 2013. Each chapter takes one step backward, revealing a new piece of what led her to the events in chapter one. Did Max ever truly understand the real beginning of her story? Was her image of a happy life ever going to be an option?





	1. first step

Max pressed her forehead against the glass of the window, staring out over the skyline of the city below. From the twenty fifth floor of the hotel, the cityscape below swelled and sank gently in a myriad of blinking lights piercing through the night like a village under a Christmas tree. She slammed a fist hard into the pane, then again, and again, until her hand was nothing more than a limp bundle of fingers weakly tapping the window.

“God damn it,” she whimpered as her chest heaved to the tune of an orchestra of inaudible sobs. “This—this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. . .”

Makeup strewn tears slid off of her face in black rivers, trailing to the bottom of her chin in tiny grey blobs. She growled through clenched teeth, an animalistic noise left of center to any sound a human normally makes. The growl crecendoed into a whine which shattered into fractured cries. Their pieces snaked up and around Max to crunch her slowly onto the marble floor leaving a pile of human wreckage gnarled into a ball at the base of the window.

“H—How is this,” Max sharply inhaled, her words slurred almost beyond understanding. “How is—this fair? What—what kind of life—does this?”

Grappling up the glass, Max stumbled to standing, her back slamming hard against the window once she was fully erect. The room ahead of her looked like something out of a story book with no worries about whether it was too much for reality. Golden molding lined the middle of the walls, finely chiseled with tendrils of tree limbs stretching across their expanse, dotted with tiny leaves here and there. All of the walls had a black crisscross pattern creating diamonds with centered black flowers, blooming upward and out in watercolor shapes against the rust red painted wall. Marble glistened in the large expanse of the room, giving way to a fluffy white area rug that encapsulated itself down around the queen sized bed with ornately stained cherry nightstands on either side. The ceiling domed up over the room, the center puncturing downward in a wooden tree statue wrapped in bulbous lights that gave off an amber glow through its weaving limbs.

Still breathing heavily as she leaned against the window, Max’s expression suddenly went blank. “Perfect,” she murmured.

Leaning forward into a few missteps, Max stopped for a second to adjust her balance. Opposite the bed was an mammoth couch, the neighboring coffee table in front showcasing a champagne bottle plummeted into a bucket of ice. Next to the bucket was another bottle, but it had already been completely emptied. She staggered to the table, snagging up the bottle from the bucket, loudly jumbling the ice. Right on the precipice of the table was a cork bottle opener. Yanking it up in her hand, she pierced sideways into the cork of the new bottle. Regrouping, Max tugged it out with some force, falling backwards a few steps from the force.

Again, she stabbed the spiral cork screw in. Bracing the bottle against her thighs, she heaved into twisting it out. The cork wouldn’t go. After a few more failed attempts, Max screamed in frustration, throwing the bottle into the mirror just a few feet from the arm of the couch.

It slammed into the mirror and clanked on the ground unfazed. The mirror itself cracked horizontally across in a thick line. _Tick—tick—tick—tick tick tick._ Max listened intently for a second.

All at once, the lower half of the mirror slipped in a tectonic shift, swinging down and out yet holding on in a hangnail. The bottom piece stayed gripped momentarily, and then it slid quickly down the wall colliding with the floor. On impact, the piece erupted into shards that streamed across the marble toward Max.

Stepping forward, using the couch cushions as leverage, Max stared down at the pieces. In one shard, she witnessed her own reflection. Her frail figure wobbled in the sharp frame, her simple, silk wedding dress stained on the front with black dots from her makeup strewn tears. Her eyes were puffy, red, and sunken into her face. The signature brunette hair that she normally kept somewhat disheveled was actually straightened, sifting down in soft strands to her shoulders.

In the other broken glass, Max thought she could see reflections of times gone by.

 

**_“Get that gun away from me psycho!”_ **

****

**_“. . .Chloe, look out. .”_ **

****

**“I love the shit out of you, you fucking asshole.”**

**_“Max? Max!? What the fuck have you done!”_**

**_“. . .couldn’t save it, but it shouldn’t—affect your quality of life. . .”_ **

****

**_“Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you!”_ **

****

**_“One year?”_ **

**_“One year.”_ **

**_“That is cause for celebration, I think. . .”_ **

****

**_“Chloe and Max for like—fucking ever and ever. ‘Till our boobs sag.”_ **

**_“Even with the last part, that’s still the mushiest mush I’ve ever heard you say.”_ **

**_“Well, yeah. Whatever. Doesn’t make it any less true.”_ **

**_“Yeah. And so it is.”_ **

**_“Lame. LAME!”_ **

**_“Oh c’mon. . .”_ **

**_“Alright, alright. And so it is. Now can you kiss me already?”_ **

**_“Wow.”_ **

**_“Don’t look at me like that.  We’ve primed the pumps, done the setup—I have earned my kiss! C’mon, gimme those sweet Max lips.”_ **

**_“Ever the romantic. . .”_ **

**_“You love it.”_ **

**_“I love you.”_ **

**_“Dooo—you love me when I call you Maxoroni and Cheese?”_ **

**_“Yes, I love you when you even call me that. .”_ **

**_“What about Maxelodeon?”_ **

**_“Do you want this kiss or not?”_ **

**_“Is that even a real question?”_ **

An empty silence pillowed the hotel room.

Max touched her fingers to her lips, a hint of the memory lingering in a tingle.

Her hand dropped like dead weight to her side, a blank expression taking route on her face. In a stupor, Max shuffled to the bed. Atop it were two suit cases. Reaching over to the dark purple one, she unzipped it mechanically, calmly moving her folded clothes onto the comforter.

Staring up from the innards of the case was her Eevee doll, tiny black dots for eyes floating over top of a placid grin. She halted rummaging the bag, shifting it aside as she collapsed to a sitting position on the bed. Grasping Eevee in her hands, she held the stuffed Pokemon tight to her chest. The soft fake hair of the mane rubbed gently against Max’s chin.

Placing it back onto the bed, Max scooted over to the nightstand, grabbing her still charging phone. A wall of unread text messages and phone calls littered the screen. Sifting past each of the alerts, Max went to her contacts list, scrolling down to a number she hadn’t called in a very long time.

Hesitating as her finger hovered over the talk button, Max squeezed her eyes shut and pressed it.

 

_Ring. . ._

_Ring. . . . ._

_Ring. . . . . . ._

 

“Hello,” a soft voice nearly whispered on the other end.

“Uhm—Uhm hi. Mom.”

Max could hear a sharp audible intake, her mother obviously holding back a cascade of sobs, “Mm—Max?”

A lump caught in Max’s throat, “Yeah. Yeah. . .”

“Where—I—I mean—are you—are you okay?”

“I’m,” Max froze, halting from unleashing a blatant lie. “I’m having a—a little bit of a rough time right now, and I just—there’s a lot happening, and I wanted—needed to tell you that I’m really sorry Mom.” Whatever mental gate had kept Max mildly coherent in the conversation finally released, “I’m so, so sorry. . .”

“Max—it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, Mom.” Sniffing deeply, Max uttered, “You guys have—have always, always supported me, and I just—I felt so guilty when I got really bad--I should have—been a better daughter. I’m—I’m honestly just disappointed in who I am now. . .”

Something in her mother’s voice suddenly became sharp, “Max? Max, where are you at right now? Please tell me honey.”

 _Been a better daughter_ , Max replayed in her head.

_I should have been a better friend, lover, daughter, person. . ._

Max breathed deeply, and some phantom deep down inside that had long possessed her finally let go. Peace flooded the axons of her brain.

Nodding into the phone, Max said, “I love you and dad so much. Just—I need you to know that and—and I’m really, really sorry.”

“Maxine!”

She ended the call, resting the phone on her forehead quietly, considering placing one other call.

 _Stupid_ , she thought.

Immediately it began to vibrate, but she tossed it to the other side of the bed. Rifling through her suitcase again, she pulled out a leather belt. She yanked both ends of the belt a few times, testing the tension in it. Rocking out of the bed into a stumble step, Max stared up at the large wooden tree statue with lights hanging down from the center of the room.

Walking over to a chair beside the entry door, Max scooted it across the floor, a sobering affect coming over her finally. She placed the chair just underneath the tree.

A few failed times stepping up onto the seat cushion later, Max was finally standing atop the chair. The point of the statue came down just around her chin.

Calmly, she brought the center of the belt around her neck.

She reached up at the buckle, tying it around one of the branches.

“Breathe, breathe, breathe. You can deal with it for a second. . .”

 

**_“And Max Caulfield? Don’t you forget about me.”_ **

****

“I never could,” she whispered.

Max kicked the head cushion of the chair, sending it plummeting onto the ground.

She felt the tension in the belt squeeze around her neck tighter and tighter. . .

Her feet swung in the air.

The world swirled in a fish eyed lens.

Darkness ate around her vision.

Then there was nothing. . .

 . . . . .

**_Shush—lemme—no I wanna tell it._ **

**_I can tell it. I promise. I can!_ **

**_So—uhm—stop it! Stop!_ **

**_Okay. Once upon a time. . ._ **

**_That’s how all stories start! Well I’m starting it that way._ **

**_Once upon a time there was a lady that was still a young lady at the time._ **

**_She had brown hair. And blue eyes. Also, she had a bunch of—a whole lot of really pretty freckles. Freckles are pretty. Anyways, her name was Max._ **

**_The—She—well, she got—well, she got powers. Super powers! She was really, really scared of them. Well, not at first, she—she played with them to make her life happy. She didn’t mean to. Max was just—y’know sad a lot. It’s hard bein’ sad._ **

**_Then Max met up with this—there was this girl that was really super tall, and she had blue hair, and I think it shined like the sun. Only it—the hair I mean—it shined blue instead of yellow like the sun. I know, but—but I’m telling a story. I gotta—her name is Chloe. The blue haired lady. Yup._ **

**_Well, and—uhm—actually, they knew each other when they were little too. They just hadn’t seen each other for a really, really, reeeaallly long time. But now that they were grown up, they fell in love ‘cause they were s’possed ta be in love._ **

**_But the whole universe was coming after them! And Max and the Chloe couldn’t love each other. They—wanted to be together, but the place they lived--it was gonna get blown up by the universe if they did love each other._ **

**_So Max, she had to say goodbye to Chloe, and it was really sad. They had to go apart so the universe didn’t do bad stuff to everybody._ **

**_But then—Chloe was left all alone in—I forgot, it was raining. She was stuck. Really stuck. And then. . ._ **

**_But—I uhm—well, there’s—uhm—they lived happily ever after--after that. After Chloe decided to break everything. She was also super angry at the universe. I forgot that part._ **

**_The end!_ **

**_I wasn’t that bad. Stoooop! I tried really hard._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick reminder to love each other.
> 
> CheerżÙĞŬŰ»Þ
> 
> Next chapter:  
> ‘hippie wisdom’


	2. hippie wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren’t in a good place, maybe put this one on the back burner until you are. This chapter is still a pretty rough trip.

May 15th 2019

Max wasn’t exactly sure how long she had been standing in the bathroom holding onto both sides of the sink for dear life, but it was probably long enough that the others were considering sending in a search party for her. She huffed, staring up at the reflection in the mirror. Two dried caked makeup streaks ran down from her eyes. Fucking stupid considering that she hated make up, and she had only done it because she was _supposed_ to look good for the wedding.

There was a knock at the door, “You okay?” Kate and her soothing voice was more of a knife in the chest than a comfort to Max at that moment.

“I’m—I’m okay.” Blowing out another burst of air, Max tried to smooth over the situation, “My stomach is just—giving out on me.”

“Okay,” Kate murmured from the other side of door. “Well, it’s—y’know, it’s okay to have a lot of jitters, so if you need me Max. . .”

Max called back to her, “Thanks Kate, I’ll—yeah, thank you!”

She could make out Kate’s heels marching away from the door. That bought her a few more minutes of precious breakdown time. At the very least, if she was going to have a mental break down, this bathroom was the place to do it. All the surfaces were marbled with a gold coloring, there was an absurd amount of soaps and moisturizers sorted on top of a table in the corner, and she hadn’t spotted one drawing of _dick butt_ graffitied atop anything. It was so much higher class than she was used to.

Maybe that was the problem too, that everything was so high class in her life suddenly. Over the years, the picture of Max’s life more closely resembled a dilapidated, chipped white paint porch, sagging in front of a trailer, cigarette ashes rounding the immediate vicinity. Her entire existence lately was more like a mansion with finely cut landscaping and a super model standing next to a table offering a three hour massage. Something in her brain whispered that it was wrong for life to be this good, she didn’t deserve it, she needed to get back down in the pit.

“Get it together, get it together,” Max said tapping her palms against her temples.

Reaching over to the table with all tiny bottles, she scooped out a couple of tissues folded crisply on its top. Scraping the dried black rivers from her face was a lot like shoving gravel with a plow, as the flaking bits of makeup rolled into little balls down her cheeks and just seemed to smear lower on her face.

“Fucking come on,” Max growled. She changed up her strategy a bit, dabbing at the balls a little bit with slightly better success.

_This makes me look a little less like a gothic Harlequin doll. Only by a little though._

After a few more minutes of dabbing and wiping, she dumped the bundle of used tissues into the waste basket. Returning her hands to the sides of the sink, Max steadied her breath and the slight tremor making her arms shake. This day was going to be perfect. This day was going to be happy. Happy was supposed to be a good thing, right?

“Seriously, fuckin’ smile Max.” Glancing back up at the mirror, Max saw a peaked eyebrow underneath a swathe of blue hair. “What do they say in the fuckin’ flick you shoved down my throat all the time when we were in middle school? _Can’t rain all the time_.”

“ _The Crow_. God, I was like addicted to that movie. Haven’t watched it in forever.” Max quietly giggled to herself thinking of two young girls cramped together on a bean bag chair, an ocean of half eaten snacks surrounding them as they were bathed in a blue glow from an old tube television.

“Eh—You’ve always kinda had that emo streak in ya.” Chloe shrugged, her eye lids drooping sarcastically, “I like em’ sad and pretty I guess.”

“I do too,” Max agreed staring into the two piercing blue eyes behind her. “I—I love you.”

Chloe squinted an eye, her voice dropping to a rasp, “Well yes, but actually no.”

“Don’t do that,” Max whispered. “I’m—I’m having a hard time.”

“Look, you need to get out there.” Chloe arced around in front of Max, leaning on the wall. She was still in all her punk glory, just as Max remembered from their days in Arcaida Bay. “You gotta go get wifed up and shit!”

“It should have been you.”

Chloe put her hands up conceding, “Eh—what are ya gonna do?” Then she crossed her arms, nodding toward Max, “Why are you even thinking of me today? Seriously, there are tons of things your imagination could be coming up with better than talking to me.”

Max could barely contain her frustration at the thought, “When the fuck am I not thinking back on you—or--us?”

“Yeah, you should see a therapist about that.”

Tilting her head to the side, Max replied, “I see one. And a support group. And—take a bunch of antidepressants, an army of anti-anxiety pills. . .”

“Remember when we would get high back in the day on my bed?” Chloe stopped for a moment, shaking her head vehemently. Regaining her composure, she fired a sharp glare at Max, “Staaahhhppp thinking about us!”

Stepping away from the sink, Max started to pace the tiny interior of the bathroom, “I don’t know if I can do this, I just—I don’t. It feels wrong Chlo. You should be up at that altar, standing with me, and—and we should have a house in the forest, and kids, and like—I don’t know, a big ass tree house.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Chloe chuckled. “I died Max. Which sucks, but you can’t just put your life on hold forever.” Max’s eyes burned. “Like—we fuckin’ actually loved each other, and that was obvious to anyone in a mile radius of our PDA, and I know losing me blew hella chunks but—that girl out there—you can’t tell me _that_ isn’t true love too.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I mean it’s not the kinda love that required you to break the course of the universe, but that doesn’t make it less special.” Chloe pointed her finger in Max’s face, “And it doesn’t mean that you’re betraying me by marrying someone else, or that you didn’t love me too, or any of that noise. Alright?” She snaps her fingers, a big smile threatening to break her head, “Ah—see, there ya go, I’m spewin’ some a’ that cognitive behavioral therapy stuff your therapist tells you!”

“That’s—that’s progress.” Max stopped, staring at Chloe intently. The beanie, the skull on her shirt, that bomber jacket, the boots. She still remembered them so vividly. And how Chloe talked. And how Chloe listened. And how Chloe kissed.

“Dude, ya had to move on eventually.” With that, Chloe pushed off the wall, coming almost face to face with Max. Even if the woman standing in front of her wasn’t real, Max would have sworn that she could smell her. A vanilla perfume Chloe basically showered herself in so that she didn’t smell like cigarettes, all for Max’s benefit. “Besides, just because something ended doesn’t mean it wasn’t a success or that—that it wasn’t worth your time.”

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Maxine Caulfield, I am going to drag you up to the God Damn altar if you do not get your perfectly shaped ass out here now!”

Chloe pointed at the door, nodding, “See—that girl gets it! _Perfectly_ shaped. That’s all I need. Go forward, marry her with my imaginary blessing! B-T-Dubs—told you your booty was on point. . .”

Max cried back toward the door stifling a laugh, her eyes locked on Chloe still, “I’ll be right out! Sorry—just—sorry!”

“Good, because I did not spend hours getting my body waxed for nothing to happen tonight!” Max could definitely make out her heels raging back down the hallway.

“Yeah see, not every girl would do that for you.” Chloe’s lip protruded as she thought. “Yeah, no, I definitely wouldn’t have done that. I _hated_ waxing, even though I loved you.”

“Shush,” Max chuckled.

“Alright, shushing. But you need to get out there and Mrs. Caulfield her up.” Chloe grinned, “Victoria Caulfield—still can’t believe she took your name. . .”

Max nodded, “Yeah. I wonder what high school me would say if she knew Victoria and I were going to be married?”

“Who the fuck cares. A nineteen year old doesn’t get to decide who you’ll always be.” Max stared into the mirror noticing how it framed her and Chloe like a picture. Partners in crime. Chloe studied the image, nodding vibrantly, “Yup. We did make a pretty picture together.”

“Yeah,” Max uttered.

“Cool. Now stop this little melt down. You have a lot of love in your future, Max Caulfield, and you’re holdin’ it all up.” Chloe smiled at the two of them in the reflection, and with that she exited the frame of the mirror.

Max was alone again , as it had been the case for years. In a matter of minutes though, she wouldn’t be. In one respect, Max was lucky. Most people never even got to have one true love in their life, and she was fortunate enough to get two.

“My Chloe,” Max said putting a hand on her chest. “My Chloe. . .”

The door exploded in a flurry a banging, Max jumping in place with a little squeak. “Mother fucking Caulfield!”

Walking over to the door, she opened it up widely. Victoria stood with a fist floating in the air waiting to hit a door that was no longer there. Victoria slowly lowered the fist to her side, face reddening in embarrassment. Max glanced at the wedding dress that her wife to be was wearing. An elegant cream color slip dress with a choker that had a small tuxedo bow pin in the center—a little something Max had picked up for the occasion that made her smile. It surprisingly didn’t take the fashion conscious woman much convincing from Max to wear what essentially was a joke.

“Uhm—I—I. . .” Victoria stood staring at Max, the first time she had seen the girl in her full wedding outfit. The crimson on her face became brighter as she stared Max up and down. “You. . .”

Max leaned forward in the doorway, her lips pressing hard against Victoria’s. She placed her palm around Victoria’s hair, holding onto the girl like she was the most important treasure her hand had ever touched. Pulling out from the kiss, Max couldn’t help stifling a laugh at the befuddled look on Vic’s face. It took a lot to get the girl into a frenzy, and every single time was a gift to see that kind of vulnerability.

“Give me five minutes,” Max said lining her fingers down Vic’s soft cheek to her chin. “I love you.”

“Oh—Okay.” Victoria stepped away from Max in a daze. “Just—I was getting worried a little bit. . .”

“The only thing you have to worry about is how much you’re gonna cry when you see me come down that aisle—and probably how much I’m gonna cry seeing you waiting for me.”

Victoria nodded blankly, still trying to collect herself, “Al—alright. Then I’ll—go—and do that. Wait for you, I mean.” She turned away from Max, taking a few steps down the hallway, and then she stopped for a second. Running back up to Max, Victoria quickly gave her a peck on the lips, “I love the shit out of you, you fucking asshole.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Max waited for the music. That was supposed to be her cue. She glanced down at the tights under her dress, a last minute save by Kate—well, Victoria through Kate. Even though it was against what Max’s brain normally critiqued, this was the first time in a long while she had genuinely felt beautiful. All eyes were going to be on her in a way that was different from her every day life. Even if the only eyes on her were going to be Kate and Warren, who were the only two people there for the wedding, and they had both already seen Max in the outfit. Still, they would be staring.

_Just breathe, Max. You’re okay. You’re okay._

Max had gotten in position, the music was supposed to play, there was supposed to be pomp and circumstance. Max skipped in between her feet, trying desperately to shake off the nerves that had taken hold of her. Her anxiety wasn’t nearly as bad as her breakdown in the bathroom, but there definitely was more than a little bit of a flutter in her heart.

The double doors in front of her were massive, stained wood monoliths. Black metal bits on them made Max think of all the times Kate would play _Dark Souls_ , her knight character or whatever kicking in the door to a boss fight.

_This is marriage, not a boss fight. Although this is kinda like leveling up. Achievement unlocked; Marry Victoria Chase!_

Thankfully Victoria wasn’t going to be fifty feet tall monster with a mammoth sword waiting near the altar to slice Max up, although she couldn’t help imagining it for a second. Then the thought struck her that maybe there were more people other than Kate and Warren waiting, and they were going to jump out to surprise her. The logistics of getting everyone there to the church would have been nearly impossible on Vic’s, Kate’s, and even Warren’s schedules. Her parents probably were the last people she wanted to be at the wedding anyway.

One of the massive doors creaked open for a second, sunlight beaming in through the crack into the dark hallway Max had been standing. Kate peered around the corner of the door.

“Uhm,” Kate muttered, opening the door a little more while scooting to stand squared off with Max in the doorway. “Max?”

“Oh no, did I miss the music?” Max barged passed Kate out into the aisle, listening to the wedding march music that wasn’t up nearly loud enough.

Kate laughed putting a hand on Max’s shoulder, “We might have been standing there for a little bit. It’s okay though.”

Looking up toward the altar, Max could make out the stifled laughing coming from Warren, as well as a little bit of a jiggle in Victoria’s shoulders. But Kate being the angel she always was scooped her arm into Max’s, leading her in the march as though this is exactly the way it was all planned. It didn’t stop the pulsing embarrassment Max felt all over her body.

“Just calm down,” Kate whispered to Max. “I’m gonna play dad and bridesmaid today.”

Those few words were all that Max needed for her heart to slow a little, and to get back on rhythm. As they drew near, Max shrugged toward Victoria as if to say, _‘Seems about right for us.’_ Victoria nodded with a smirk twisting the corner of her lips, eyes glistening a little.

Kate put Max in front of Victoria, returning to her place behind Max. The ceremony started, the priest saying things, but Max’s brain shut itself off from his words. All she could see was the crinkle of a smile on Vic’s lips. All her brain could process was how beautiful this woman was and how she was lucky enough to spend the rest of her life with her. All she could imagine was an endless stream of days seeing that face across the bed in the morning saying _I love you_ like a mantra.

“Max?” Max snapped out of her day dream, glancing over at the priest that she noticed had an uncanny resemblance to Mark Ruffalo. “Did you hear me?”

“Uhm. .”

“I don’t think she did,” Victoria chuckled.

“Well—do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live until death do you part?”

Max nodded, feeling a warm trickle slide down her face, “I do.”

“Do you Victoria, take Max to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live until death do you part?”

Victoria nodded, sniffling, “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by God and the state of Nevada, I bid you wife and wife.” He smiled brightly, “You may now kiss your brides.”

And they kissed, and they held each other tightly like they had so many times before. When they parted, Max could feel the spark of a new life electrifying her body.

_Roll the credits—finally._

********** 

_“Little bird, little bird, fly through my window. . .”_

The voice was gentle. Melodic. It took only a few lyrics cooed to soften Max’s entire being.

_“Little bird, little bird, fly through my window. . .”_

Demons had stalked Max for years. They caused her to chain smoke at three in the morning, to cry until there was nothing wet inside, to isolate into corners made of self hate, loneliness, and a brain filled to the brim with more memories than hope.

" _Little bird, little bird, fly through my window. . .”_

Long fingers smoothed through Max’s hair in a steady, repeated motion. The rhythm flowed with the words of the song.

_“Fine molasses candy. . .”_

Max smiled warmly.

_“Fly through my window my sugar lump. . .”_

Each finger tip cascaded through her hair again, Max reflexively humming along.

_“Fly through my window my sugar lump. . .”_

It was simple love, not the type of love that required breaking an entire universe to exist. Just tiny gestures that led her out of that isolated corner into a home built from a light left on in the living room when she returned home late from work, and dinner in a plastic container left on the counter with a note atop reading _“So you don’t forget to eat”_ , and a lullaby of gentle breathing next to her in bed at night singing her to sleep.

_“Fine molasses candy.”_

Those tiny actions gave Max hope for the next minute, or hour, or day. Each one was a promise that on the island of existence she often found herself stranded, she would not be alone. Max Caulfield would never be alone.

Max opened her eyes, staring up from Victoria’s lap. Victoria glanced down at her, smiling brightly. Sitting up, Max peeked out the windows of the limo. Outside, Las Vegas strode by in a series of lights, and crowds, and cars.

Victoria cooed, “Mrs. Caulfield.”

Staring back at her with a massive grin, Max repeated, “Mrs. Caulfield.”

“Kinda wanna send my Dad a selfie of the two of us in our wedding dresses,” Victoria said, reaching into her purse. She stared at the phone for a second, murmuring under her breath, “This fucking number. . .”

Max nodded, kissing her on the cheek, “I’m sure he’d just love that.”

“No more Chases in the bloodline.” Holding the phone away from them, scooting into Max and placing an arm around her, Victoria smiled, “Alright—give a kiss toward the camera.”

Max and Vic pouted their lips as the phone made a shutter snapping sound. Taking the phone away, Max heard Victoria’s quick thumbs tapping away at a text message, and the little _whoosh_ sound as the text sent.

“I can’t wait to see his response.” Max leaned her head onto Victoria’s shoulder, cuddling into her tightly.

Locking her phone, Victoria tightly wound Max in an arm. “Do your parents even know you’re here?”

“It’s—it’s not the same when you were the sucky one in the relationship.” Max took in a deep breath and sighed out a machine gun burst of air, “And I was not even close to daughter of the year material.”

“You should—you should at least give them a chance.” Victoria shrugged, Max’s head  moving upward with her shoulders, “You just kind of—assumed that they’d cut you off.”

“I know,” Max said. “One day I’ll be ready to deal with all that, just—y’know. I think I wanna just enjoy being with you for a while. Happiness and shit, yo.”

Victoria chuckled at Max’s inner dork rising to the surface. “When you’re ready, you’ll have me backing you up, and not a lot of people can say that Victoria Chase was willing to go to bat for them.” Holding up her right hand, Victoria stared at the gold wedding band around her finger. “So why were you in the bathroom so long before the ceremony?”

“Working out some stuff,” Max breathed out in frustration. “More of crazy Max Caulfield being at it again, y’know.”

“Don’t say that.” Taking her arm off of Max, Vic went face to face with her. “You’re not crazy, that’s—don’t say that.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it Vic, but I am. I got proof.” Max knocked on her lower left shin, a plastic noise upon each hit.

“I just mean—would you let me say that about myself?”

“No. . .”

“Exactly.” Victoria focused out the window, and Max could see an old set of movies playing in her head. “I wasn’t exactly _sane_ when we decided that even just a friendship might actually be a thing that could work between us. I just—we were sick, y’know? We got—better.”

“Well, always trying to get better,” Max pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s like a—a process, but you know what I mean.” Victoria paused for a second, wheels churning on something. Max had seen this a hundred times before on her face. There was a quote stuck in her head. “ _Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life_.”

Max nodded at her, “Kerouac? I can feel Kate somewhere in Las Vegas squeeing, but she has no idea why. . .”

“I know, I know, I don’t normally go for the Beats, but I feel like that’s us? Or at least you.” Staring back at Max, eye brow popped, Vic held up a finger in protest, “And I know it’s cheesy, but we both have battered suitcases—baggage—and we—well, we’ll keep carrying on the road together.”

“It leans a little on the art school stoner level of cheese, but that’s perfect for us.” Max curled back into Victoria, closing her eyes again, “I can’t believe how freaking exhausted I am.”

Victoria gave her a gentle pat on the leg, “You better catch all the winks you can in the limo then, because I am not going to let you sleep tonight.”

Max garbled a laugh into her should, grabbing tightly around Vic’s waist.

********** 

The hotel, _The Black Willow_ , was the perfect place to spend their wedding night. It was the sign of a life that was much more upscale than anything Max had ever imagined she would be in, although the church earlier that day was nicer than she thought she was going to get married in. Chloe had only ever mentioned a court house when it came to the whole marriage question, so anything that was a step up from legal system sheik was better than that.

Stepping out of the limo under the overhang at the entrance of the hotel casino was more of a red carpet walk than a simple jaunt into the building. Victoria grabbed Max’s hand, a little bit of showboating of her new wife to the tourists that were crowding around, and Max thought that maybe someone might have even snapped a picture of the newly weds. It was a pricey place, all gold trim and tree decorations. A nature theme choked around the entire hotel, the elegance of a rainforest with the theme park façade of Disney World.

Victoria took Max through the double doors of the entrance, moving them immediately into the lobby. From there, they made their way through a maze of slot machines, and just past them on the other side were the elevators.

Vic pressed the up button for the elevator, “I gotta admit. I kind of love showing you off to everyone here. . .”

“Funny,” Max said raising an eyebrow, “I was thinking the same thing.”

 _Ping_ _!_

Waiting on a middle aged couple in hawaiin shirts to exit, Max and Vic entered the elevator alone. Victoria pressed the button for the 25th floor, as they were at the top on the suites level. The elevator moved at such a pace, Max could feel her stomach jumping as it picked up speed. Upon reaching their floor, the two stepped out, Victoria giddily yanking Max by the hand.

Down the floral carpeted hallways, the two girls were almost at a jog as they made their way back toward the room. There was something so innocent and childlike about it all to Max. It had been years since she had felt anything close to being a kid again, but Victoria brought that out in her.

“Here we go!” Victoria shakily let go of Max’s hand, digging into her purse. She snagged out the card key, pressing it up to the door. It clicked, Victoria cranking the handle and pushing it open, “Finally!”

“The Rock has come back to Las Vegas!” Max giggled at her own little joke, Victoria giving her a glance back that said _‘Really?’_ “I can—I can make wrestling references,” Max said bashfully closing the door.

“Well don’t overdue it on the wrestling references, because I have a feeling you’ll have a lot of opportunity to use them tonight,” Victoria mentioned as she pranced over to the curtains, flinging them open.

The skyline below gently rolled and swayed. Max stepped toward the window, noticing that she could see all the way to the far end of Las Vegas, right up to where the town ended and a little slither of highway jetted into mountains.

“Wowsers.” Putting her hand on the window, Max could see the sun just about gone over the western horizon. Beams poked out from behind the mountains, pink sky being overtaken by a swash of dark purple.

Victoria smiled warmly, “It’s like the view goes on forever.”

Max gently turned Victoria’s chin to her, “It does.”

They kissed deeply, the fading sun in the distance outlining the two of them in a brilliant glow. When their lips parted, Max stepped away toward the middle of the room.

“That’s a weird statue—lighty—thing.” Max pointed up toward the tree statue jetting down from the dome centered ceiling. Its wooden, gnarled limbs intertwined with little bulbs of light.

“Hey, when we were picking out places, you were all about the tree decorations, so here we are.” Victoria backed from the window, looking over the massive expanse of the room. “You think Kate and Warren like their room?”

“Kate and Warren would probably have been okay with a shack if it meant getting away for a few days.” It was true, as Kate had been overworked and overlifed for the prior few months. The two of them must have been using this as a getaway. “We should probably meet up with them before we lock ourselves away in here for the next few days.”

“Few days?” Victoria wagged her finger, “Few weeks, if I have anything to say about it.”

“But I got to eat and go outside and do stuff too,” Max whined.

“If by stuff you mean me, I totally agree.” Victoria laughed, taking a running start toward the bed, plummeting into its sheets and just barely missing their two suitcases sitting on top.

Max held her hands together in front of her, bashfully twisting her body while side eyeing Victoria, “Well—I mean you’re part of some of that stuffs. .”

The purse beside Victoria on the bed began to buzz again, and she grabbed it out staring angrily at the screen. “There’s this fucking number calling me again today—just leave me alone!”

“You think it’s a scam call,” said Max sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I mean—maybe, or it could be a work related thing. . .”

Max squinted as if unsure, “Maybe you should—answer it? Just in case.”

“Wait. Fuck I—yeah, I need to—yeah.” Suddenly bolting up on the bed, Victoria scooped the phone out, pressing the talk button with rehearsed ease. “Hello?” She stood up from the bed, a slight pause in her step. “Max—it’s—it’s a thingy thing, I gotta--”

“Yeah! Do it!” Max waved her away, and Victoria quietly exited into the hallway.

Oozing back onto the comforter, Max sat her head on one of the pieces of baggage. Sighing happily, she put her hands on her stomach, one last trace of sunlight shining through the window across her body.

**_“And Max Caulfield? Don’t you forget about me.”_ **

It always happened like that. Happiness, excitement, and then an exhausted comedown with a terrible memory attached. Max clamped her eyes shut, trying to shake the memory out of her brain. This wasn’t the time or place to be locked on that. The day had been—perfect. Max wasn’t going to allow her brain to ruin it with a simple thought.

From the door, she heard the lock click, and Victoria reentered like a beaten dog. Everything in her form had changed, even from the person Max normally knew her as. Her cheeks were suddenly puffy and wet. She sniffled as she zombie shuffled over to one of the couches.

Max exploded up from the bed, rushing over beside her, “Woa, woa? What—what just happened?”

“I’m. . .I’m not doing this. . .” Victoria uttered through a cascade of sobs.

Max took the seat next to her on the couch, putting an arm around the sobbing woman. Victoria reeled back from the touch like it burned.

“Max—just—I’m—I can’t—I can’t.” Victoria stood up from the couch, almost tripping as she made her way back toward the bed. “I fucking—I knew. . .”

“Vic—Vic talk to me.” Max said trying to follow the girl’s movements and thoughts. “I can help out, what—what happened? What was that phone call?”

Victoria stared at Max blankly, shaking her head, “I—I’m leaving you.”

“Leaving me? For where? What do you have to go do?”

Victoria clenched her jaw tightly, syllables barely coming out, “I—I mean I’m not going to be with you. I—I’m leaving you. This—this was. . .a mistake. . .”

 _Mistake_ was the word that speared through Max’s heart, nauseating her, sucking all her breath and locking it in her chest. “I don’t—no, that doesn’t make sense. You were—we—we—we just. . .”

“I. . .”

“Vic use your words her, you’re—you’ve literally watched me shit in a bed pan, we—we’ve been through everything.” Max walked over, trying to touch her again, but getting the same burned result. “Please, talk to--”

“I fucked up,” Victoria declared. “I fucked up and—I fucked up Max, and—I have to leave.” She began to reach for her suitcase.

Max grabbed her by the arm, “Nn—No you—no stop!”

Shaking Max off her arm, Victoria stumbled back, “Fucking—I don’t need my suitcase I’ll—I’ll just. . .”

“You’re freaking out Vic, stop—just stop!”

“How are you not getting this?! I—am—leaving. I’m. . .” Max could almost swear she was watching the girl rip out her own heart and plop it on the floor. “I’m sorry. For—for fucking everything. Out of any human being on the planet, you deserved better. . .god damn it I am so sorry. . .”

Whimpering lowly Victoria walked quickly toward the door, yanking it open. Max chased after her, “Think about what you’re doing, fucking think about it Victoria! Why are you not talking to me, you’re—you’re not even making any sense right now!”

“No, I am. Please don’t follow me, or—or call me—or anything. Just—leave me alone.” Victoria exited, the door clicking loudly behind her.

Max could barely breathe. Her head was spinning.

“Fuck this,” She said holding a hand up toward the door. It was a fruitless endeavor, as her rewind power hadn’t worked in years. Maybe just this once, it might. Maybe something in the universe was going to let her have a little luck. Nothing.

She ran toward the door, shaking herself out of the shock that had taken hold. Max flicked the door handle--

“You’re a fuckin’ piece of work,” Chloe said stepping up beside of Max. “Couldn’t even make it as a wife a few hours, and the girl is already heading for the hills.” She giggled, throwing her arms behind her head as she waltzed around the room, “I mean, anyone coulda’ saw this shit coming. _You_ should have.”

“I—I don’t. . .”

Chloe glowered back at Max, “Do I have to spell out what comes next? You’ve wanted an excuse so fucking badly, so just do it already!”

Max wanted to cry, to protest, to feel anything at all. A freezing up had taken over her body, where it just felt like a pressure valve getting clogged up. She shook her head, stepping over to her phone. She needed to call Kate and Warren, this was an emergency.

“Jesus Christ you’re pathetic.” Chloe chuckled.

“No, no, I—I just—they’re here in the—the hotel. . .” Max picked up her phone, messages and hundreds of comments on photos of the wedding that had been already posted to _Facebook_ from Kate or Victoria. It knotted up her stomach to see the walls of notifications, causing her to drop the phone onto the night stand.

“Mad Max, Mad Max—you need to relax.” Chloe was suddenly beside of her, a twisted grin on her face, “This is the second time you’re thinking of me, and just suddenly after Victoria leaves. Kinda tells you something, huh?”

“I gotta. . .I gotta. . .I’ll call Victoria. She seemed scared, I can’t—I know better than to jump to over—over reacting, I’ve been over this in therapy. . .”

“Stop that psycho babble bullshit, Max!” Chloe flipped Max off, giggling wildly, “You’re such a stupid bitch. Can we just cut through all this and be honest here?”

Max let go of the handle, her entire body shaking in fear or maybe excitement. “I—I don’t. . .”

Chloe glared at her from under her brow, “Look, this shit was—happy. We both know you can’t do that. Scares the shit out of you.” Staring up at the tree statue, Chloe pointed over at Max, “Being fucking in an awful place, wanting to just dive into the ruin—I know it’s like putting on a comfortable shirt for you. . .”

“But—but Vic seemed. . .she was. . .”

“Let go.” Chloe walked close to Max, saying very lowly, “You always knew it wasn’t going to last forever. How could it? You’re Max Caulfield.”

With that, Chloe was gone from her imagination.

Max grabbed her room key, barreling out the door.

 **********

Once she was back in the lobby, a choir of slot machines sang their tunes. Cigarette smoke lingered from some of the older people playing them, usually alone.

 _Bet that’ll be me one day,_ Max thought passing an old woman with sunglasses all alone, cigarette dangling from her wrinkled lips.

The casino portion of the hotel was like every other casino in Vegas. Loud noises, fat crowds, and a maze of gambling, shops, or food that was difficult to navigate even for sober people. She needed out of the room, though she wished she had taken a moment to change out of the wedding dress. Max could feel eyes on her as she wandered around aimlessly.

A destination wasn’t really on her mind, and the brain fuck of a day had left a gnawing numbness in the cage of her chest. Tonight was supposed to be about feeling good, and celebrating with friends, and kissing her new wife. Instead, she stared at one of the bars peeking out from behind a winnable car rotating on a turnstile.

_You’re a god damn idiot._

Primal and basic motor functions carried her feet one step after another, a tingling sensation pin pricking her fingers. It was odd how breaking down was something almost comforting to Max, like she was suddenly coming home. She had spent so many years climbing out of a hole that it actually felt kind of nice to want to dive back into it.

_Stop, just—just stop, you don’t need to do this._

Her feet wouldn’t stop though, and she crossed the threshold of the bar. The décor was touristy high class. Glass modern coffee tables that were actually plastic. Black leather chairs that were actually pleather. The stained wood that covered the bar top, but upon closer inspection it was only painted to look like wood at all. Fake. Like her happiness. Her recovery.

Slowly she went toward the counter, staring up at the menu. All of the options were dizzying. It was exciting in a fucked up way. Etching closer to the bar top, she drummed her fingers nervously on it.

The bar tender glanced over at her, bald head shining in the dim modern indented lights lining over top of the bar. He smiled from beneath the red bush of his beard, “Is someone celebrating tonight?”

Max glanced down at her outfit for a second, feigning a smile as she looked back up at him, “Yeah, yeah, just—yeah. Just—just got married to the woman of my dreams today.”

“Oh?” He nodded with a big smile, “Congratulations to you! Is she—with you?”

“She had to—she’s up in the room, but she’ll be down.” Max giggled, a weird giddiness taking over. “You’ll notice her when she comes down. White wedding gown, streak of—of pixie blonde hair. . .uhm. . .can’t miss her.”

“Well, I look forward to meeting her.” He gestured at a massive poster behind him of all the drink specials for the night, “But first, what can I get for you?”

Max replied in a mantra, “Double shot of Glenfiddich, twelve year, neat.”

“Now that is a drink you can celebrate with,” he chuckled grabbing a bowler.

Before she knew it, the drink was in front of her, the guy had gotten her credit card, and she was alone with her thoughts.

It was a Scotch-Whisky she had grown fond of over the years. Her favorite actually, although people rarely ever pegged her as the type to drink it. The brown in the glass jiggled to the noises around, her eyes locked on it. One little drink to end this shit hole of a day. She had more than earned it.

Max’s fingers slid in around the glass, her thumb caressing it as she held it. Slowly floating it up to her nose, she took in the aroma. The smell burned, but she knew it was going to go down smooth. It always went down smooth. From where she stood at the bar, she could see a massive mirror just opposite her.

Max was locked on the reflection that stared back. Glass in her hand. The wedding dress. Swollen puffy cheeks. A heavy sigh left her.

She fired back the double shot, its burn sending shockwaves through out her body. Max trembled as the drink dove into her stomach. Slowly she put the drink back on the bar top, staring up at the reflection of herself once again. Nothing looked different. She didn’t feel different either.

She needed to change that.

It was time to go home.

No more fighting.

As she raged into the night, it all went by in a blur until Max found herself dripping into one of the booth seats, alone. A series of empty glasses sat in front of her on the table, except for one.

**_"Whenever I fall asleep I keep on waking up to the same goddamn dreams--”_ **

**** The music erupted from a speaker sitting atop the barrier between two booths. Max glanced up at it with furrowed brows, wishing that someone might have the common decency to turn the music down.

**_"It’s just me drowning with my arm, from the elbow up, reaching out for anything. . .”_ **

**** In front of her on the table was one last shot glass filled two fingers full. The top of the whisky in the glass wiggled to the deafening music, slight drips breaking the surface and cascading down the edges onto the tabletop. Sucking in a hard breath through her teeth, Max studied the contents of her glass. After one or two deep breaths, Max threw the shot back down her throat, slamming it onto the table top with practiced bravado.

Stumbling back up from the table, she waltzed back to the bar, not bothering to explain why a pixie haired girl never came down to join her. She closed the tab, struggling to walk back out into the casino portion of the hotel. Everything looked like a funhouse mirror version of itself, faces blurring by like fucked up portraits. Mangled, and smiling, and laughing, and fuck all of them. Their happiness was a god damn sickness, a lie.

Max didn’t even feel sad, she was enraged. It was an addicting feeling. No anxiety, no depression, none of the fucked up she dealt with on a daily basis. It was all pumping veins and a desire to watch it all fucking burn.

Back into the labyrinth of slot machines, and tables, and blinking lights, and buzzing noises, Max had somehow managed to navigate her way to the elevators. After pressing the button, she leaned her head against the cool wall, a cacophony of noise around her melding into an overwhelming mess in her head. She wanted it all to stop.

The door to the elevators finally opened up, Warren and Kate standing on the other side.

 _Oh fuck me_ , Max thought upon seeing the two holding hands and staring her down.

“Max we were a little worried, we couldn’t get either of you on your,” Kate was starting to say as she went in for a hug. She stopped mid sentence at the thick smell of alcohol coming off of Max. “Oh my god. . .”

“S’fine.” Max pushed Kate off of her, trying to scoot in between the two toward the interior of the elevator. “I j’st. . .”

Warren held out a hand in front of her, “You can barely put sentences together, Max.”

“Max—what—what happened?” Kate cried, her eyes fearful.

“Vic left.” Max stated shrugging her head. “She—she left.”

“Left?” Warren tried to process the information. “Like—what do you mean left?”

“Uhm—she fuckin’ left—prob—probab—prob’ly to Seattle. I dunno.” Max growled angrily as the elevator doors shut without her on it. “God damn it. . .”

“We need to get her—get her someplace to get water or—or. . .” Kate’s voice was wavering. Of course she was scared. She had seen the monster before at full power. It didn’t stop it from being fucking annoying that she couldn’t let Max just go around.

Warren leaned in, staring at Max’s eyes closely. “Oh man, Kate she—she’s really. . .”

“’mmm gonna go up to my room now, and—and go to sleep, and—we can—can do this whole—thing tomorrow morning.” Max pounded her fist into the up button again, losing her balance from and collapsing with her back against the wall in between the elevators.

“No, we’re staying here--”

“That’s—that’s where you are wrong Kate.” Max closed her eyes, feeling a warm trickle line her cheek. “I wanna be alone ‘cause I’m—I’m drunk, and I just got left by my wife of like three hours. . .and—and fuck you, I wanna be alone.”

“Okay,” Max could hear Warren say nervously. “We’ll—we’ll call Vic, and get this whole thing sorted out, okay?”

As the doors to the elevator opened, Max slid her body around inside, colliding into one of the mirrors on the walls. This was the reflection she wanted to see earlier. Everything inside on the outside. It was allowing the wound air to breathe.

“I’m not leaving her, Warren--”

“Just,” Max stared back at the two standing rigidly at the doors, “We’ll be up there in a few minutes.”

“Forget that, I’m going with her!” Kate said barging into the elevator.

Max reeled back, pushing the Kate back through the doors. Kate’s jaw dropped, and Max could see all the damage land. It didn’t matter though, Max needed to be alone. Although it curled her heart to see the look on Kate’s face as the doors closed.

On the twenty-fifth floor again, Max shuffled from side to side of the hallway, trying to move straight forward. She could only make a few steps, until the fulcrum of the world seemed to shift her to the other side of the hall. After an eternity, Max finally made it back to the suite.

Stumbling through the door way, she noticed there was a bucket of ice with two champagne bottles and two glasses. The honey moon suite special. Victoria must have not contacted them in time about the little problem with that, which made things a whole lot easer for Max.

Grasping up one of the bottles, she noticed the cork was loosened. She tossed the cork aside, drinking the bottle straight up. The amount of bubbles and the sweet taste made Max nauseous on top of all the liquor she had consumed. Clanking the bottle back onto the table, she wiped her mouth.

Her phone made a buzzing noise, and she walked back over to it. There were so many messages that it was overwhelming. People congratulating her, followed by a series of messages from Kate and Warren. The only thing she wanted was one text from Victoria. Something. Anything. Even just _I’m sorry_.

Max picked up the phone, typing in a single text to Victoria.

 **_11:50_ ** **_,_ ** **_May 15 th 2019_ **

**Max:**

**u shdldve talk to me**

**should**

**chloe would not have doen this to me**

Max threw the phone down on the night stand, stumbling over to the window. She couldn’t help thinking of their kiss over sunset, and how everything seemed perfect for just a few minutes. That’s all it ever seemed to last in her life.

_Chloe would never have done this. . .what the fuck kind of life is this? Just shit, after shit, after shit, after god damn fucking shit._

Max pressed her forehead against the glass of the window, staring out over the skyline of the city below. From the twenty fifth floor of the hotel, the cityscape below swelled and sank gently in a myriad of blinking lights piercing through the night like a village under a Christmas tree. She slammed a fist hard into the pane, then again, and again, until her hand was nothing more than a limp bundle of fingers weakly tapping the window.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The first sip of tea is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy."--Jack Kerouac
> 
> Songs mentioned in this chapter:  
> "Little Bird, Little Bird" by Elizabeth Mitchell  
> "I Thought You Didn't Even Like Leaving" by Prince Daddy & The Hyena
> 
> As always, remember to love each other.  
> Cheers.
> 
> next chapter:  
> ‘altar girl’


	3. altar girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to caution on the content of this chapter, and honestly the rest of the fic. There's a fair amount dealing with mental health struggles, and I don't really want to hurt anyone with it. Read when you’re in a good head space.

 

**September 21 st 2017**

Raindrops smacked against the windshield as the car raged down the road. Max cranked up the speakers of the stereo. She sniffed loudly, gliding her fingers underneath her nose. As Max drew back her hand, she noticed a crimson stain spattered across her finger.

_Wait? What—_

“Louder,” Victoria murmured through her tightened jaw, and she flicked her fingers across the knob for the volume.

The red Mustang shook and bounced as it veered through the turns of road leading into Arcadia Bay. Both headlights ate holes in the rain and darkness of the night, mist pissing in gangrenous yellow patterns in front of the car. A cloud of smoke invaded Max’s peripheral vision. Max turned toward Victoria in the driver seat, who sat leaned forward with the steering wheel almost in her chest with one hand on the wheel and the other draped out the window with a cigarette.

Max peered into the back seat of the car, white buckets jostling around each turn the car hugged at speeds far too fast. Inside each one, Max could barely make out the liquidy sloshing sound in each bucket. Something close to a smirk stretched across her numbed face, but her heart felt like it was going to tear out of its rib cage. Max grabbed at the neckline of her shirt attempting to get more room for her chest.

“Fuck!” Victoria screamed, her body twitching and spasming for a second, which she quickly shook off.

“You—you okay?” Max said staring at her.

“If it ‘twere done, when tis done, then t’were well it were done,” and suddenly Max was pinned into her seat as the Mustang’s engine roared, “quickly!”

Max felt her stomach twisting itself into knots, and her t-shirt was wet enough that someone might have thought she was out in the rain but it was only sweat. In the ambience of the headlights reflecting off of the rain glassed pavement, Max could see the lines of sweat drenching down Victoria’s face, her cigarette gliding near her eyes too many times as she used the back of her hand to wipe.

Around one final bend, the night time scene of Arcadia Bay came into view, the car going down a slope with the town framed ahead in between a line of bushy trees. In the far off, Max could still make out the beam from the lighthouse. That fucking light house that always appeared in her dreams.

Her chest yearned to sob, to scream out in rage, to get whatever this pressure was out. Grasping at the bottle that had been squeezed between her seat and the center console, Max yanked it out, twisting off the cap with one handed practiced precision. There was little more than a slosh left of whisky. Sucking it down, she felt the heat of it slide down her throat in contrast to the chilling cold of Victoria’s open window spewing misty rain onto everything inside the car between them.

As they rolled into town, Victoria slowed her pace, dashing out her cigarette and putting up the window. The car’s engine geared down, and Max instinctively turned down the screeching guitar tune exploding from the speakers. Max’s brain whipped back to times-gone-by as the car cautiously rolled along through the maze of Arcadia Bay’s suburbia. These streets were memorized in her DNA; she thought of two little girls bumbling along on their bikes yearning for adventure.

The Price house slowly came into view, the car halting even slower, nothing but the sound of windshield wipers and fat raindrops echoing in the cab. Max felt a rising bile threatening to escape her throat at the mere sight of the place. Orange bulky numbers on the dashboard read _10:58 PM_. Her eye line traced carefully from the house over to Victoria, who was shivering hard enough that it almost looked like her torso was dancing in a spastic rhythm.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Max sighed out, tears burning at her eyes.

“I don’t know,” said Victoria, her words shaky and full of breath.

“Pull—pull up,” Max uttered.

The Mustang jumped a little speeding up for a second, but slowed just as quickly when Victoria regained control. The car stopped at the foot of the driveway, lurching as Victoria slammed the brake too hard. She put it in park, another lull between the two women.

Victoria shrugged, “We—we can. . .we can go. Just leave.”

“I—I don’t want to.” Max felt her lips tighten, her throat knotting up. “I should have done this—a—a long time ago.”

Victoria nodded slowly at first, and then it sped up, “Yeah, yeah, okay. Okay.”

Shooting out a burst of air from her rounded lips, Max opened the door, the dull roar of the rain immediately flooding all of her hearing. She stumbled into the sidewalk, just barely managing to keep her body upright. Opening the back door, she grabbed out a white bucket, clanking it loudly to the sidewalk.

“Come on!” Max screamed toward Victoria, who seemed frozen in the driver seat.

It snapped Victoria to attention though and she got out of the car, slamming the door a little too hard behind her. From the back, Victoria grabbed one of the other white buckets, stumbling backwards as the weight of it shifted into her of balance. She stumbled backward into the middle of the road, using all of her might to stop herself.

Max clung to the bucket on her right side by the handle, her foot steps lugging it along in tiny little bursts. It didn’t take Max long to fall over on the gentle slope leading up into the yard.

“Fuck, your leg,” Victoria cried attempting to catch up with Max.

“God damn it!” Max growled struggling back to standing, adrenaline killing what was left of the alcohol in her system. “It’s fine, I’m—I’m fine!”

They stood at the front stoop of the house, the two girls plopping down the buckets into the soaking grass. A street lamp cast the front of the house with enough light that Max could see the half painted blue siding. William never had a chance to finish painting it.

“This—fuck it’s raining so hard!” Victoria shook her head.

Max yanked out a brush she had burrowed into her blue jean pocket. The frayed edges of the paint brush were already soaked, like her jeans, and t-shirt, and hair, and just everything. She stood breathing hard, eyes locked on the front of the house. Dropping the paint brush into the grass, Max knelt down and almost fell, but she held it together by firmly gripping the lid of the paint bucket. Grunting deeply, she forced all her might to rip off the lid, twirling it onto the ground. The egg blue color splattered up as the heavy drops descended into the freshly opened paint bucket.

Max heaved the bucket from the bottom, but she hadn’t gotten used to her leg entirely when it came to heavy lifting. Victoria knelt to help her with the bucket, the two women lifting it up with bouncing grunts between them. Rowing it backwards for a second, they launched a globule of paint onto the siding. The rain ate away at the mess like bullets penetrating into sand. As Victoria took the weight of setting it back down on the ground, Max ran forward, smearing the paint down the siding with her hands, something long held in her brain finally releasing.

“FUUUUUCCCKKKKK!” Max screamed at the top of her lungs, paint starting to drench down her chest, all over her arms, and on the grass beneath her. She was covered in blue.

Victoria ran over to the bucket, scooping up paint by the hand fulls. She slung it toward the house growling. Max stared over at her, both their chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath.

“All the past needs is a little coat of paint, right?!” Victoria’s body deflated as she took a step backward, running her hands through her hair, the pixie cut spraying water off of each strand while her hand sifted through. She pulled up the sleeve of her coat, a massive bandage lining her forearm. Picking at the edge of the bandage, Max gently grabbed the other end, and together they ripped it off. The bandage fell to the ground heavily onto the soaking grass.

Victoria stared down at the hospital wrist band loosely dangling at the top of her left palm, a line of stitches marking down from the crook of her arm to the base of her palm. Max dunked her hand in the paint, taking it back out slowly as it spattered everywhere. She wiped it down Victoria’s arm, the wound nearly vanishing under a layer of blue.

Max nodded, peeling back the left pant leg of her jeans. A prosthetic foot jetted out of her sneaker, leading up somewhere near her thigh. Victoria rushed over to the bucket, sifting out more paint. She knelt down to Max’s limb, running her hands over the plastic leg, streaks of blue thickly dripping down to Max’s shoe. With that, in the deafening rain, not another word was said. Just sobbing, as they spattered the house in paint, smearing hand prints down the wall, side by side.

At that moment, the window in the front door suddenly shined orange. It was flung open, a man with a mustache and a night robe standing in the door way with a gun immediately trained on both of them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin?!” It was David.

Max sobbed as she grabbed paint out of the bucket with her bare hands, trailing a thick stream from the bucket to the siding. Neither of them had even acknowledged his presence, simply grabbing the paint and smearing it.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Max scooped up the bucket, slamming it against the house and watching it erupt in a volcano of paint against the window, her, the grass, and spattering both the girls. As Max stepped back quickly, her leg buckled from underneath her as it slid on the paint and rain. She fell backward, her hand grasping at Victoria’s shoulder as a knee jerk reaction. Both women fell onto the grass, as David stood befuddled in the doorway.

Max yanked at the straps of her prosthetic limb, taking herself out of it. She held the limb up, throwing it at the house, Victoria struggling to get to a sitting position. In the dark, and cold, and paint, and rain—Max fell onto her back, body convulsing in a flurry of sobs. Victoria pulled down Max’s pant leg that exposed her amputation to the rain, the empty part of the jeans soaking into the grass.

Victoria grasped her arms around Max’s frail figure, the two of them curling into a ball together atop the grass. Their faces and bodies were drenched in paint, thick enough that the rain did little to wash it away. In that moment, the two girls held each other, quietly whimpering in a pile of human wreckage.

David clicked the safety of his gun while gesturing to Joyce, who was then standing in the doorway, that everything was alright. He walked out into the rain, kneeling down to the two trembling women.

“Max honey?” His tone was soothing. Max could barely hear it in the down pour and Victoria’s sobs in her ear. “Max?”

Max only cried out in response, something guttural, that made David flinch just slightly.

 “Alright, alright, shhhh. . .” David put a hand on Victoria’s shoulder, causing the girl to stare back at him. They exchanged a silent moment as she dislodged herself from Max’s grasp, still struggling to keep the tears from flowing. With Victoria moved, he gently cradled Max into his arms, picking her up from the ground, “Alright, you’re alright.”

“It’s not—ff-fair,” Max murmured.

“I know,” David replied solemnly as Max grasped onto the top of his night robe, burying her face into it. He hissed her gently on the head, “Let’s get you cleaned up. You two girls aren’t goin’ anywhere else tonight.”

In the doorway, Joyce stood eyes wide, still in her uniform. David gave her a nod as he gently ascended the stoop with Max. Joyce stopped him for a second, and he angled Max toward her.

“Oh honey,” Joyce said running a hand gently through Max’s soaked brunette strands. “What are ya out here doin?”

“We never painted it,” Max barely got out. “We—she kept asking, and—and I kept putting it off, and we—we never painted it. . .why didn’t I just do it?”

Joyce kissed Max on the forehead gently, not finding words other than, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” Max replied.

Joyce wiped away a dash of paint on Max’s cheek, “It’s okay. Maybe—maybe call me before deciding to repaint the house next time, huh?”

David looked over his shoulder at Victoria, “Go ahead and pull your car up into the driveway. First time havin’ two Mustangs up near the garage. Wonder what the neighbors will say? Well, 'bout that and our newly painted front. . .”

Victoria nodded blankly, still attempting to recover. David carried Max through the doorway, Joyce heading in before them. Max watched over David’s shoulder through the doorway as Victoria picked up the prosthetic limb. Framed in the door, Max peered at Vic staring back from the lawn holding the leg in both arms. The door covered Max’s view of Victoria as Joyce quietly closed it behind them.

 

**May 14 th 2019**

The cigarette dangled lazily from Max’s lips, her eyes closed, head bobbing side to side as she danced. Afternoon sunlight beamed down from over head, shadows almost non existent. A steady stream of smoke snaked out from between her lips, her body swaying slowly to the music coming from Vic’s phone which poked out of the back pocket of her jean shorts. Victoria curved her arm around Max’s waist and gently pulling her in. Max felt the heat coming off of Vic’s stomach, their thighs intermingling as the two gently moved to the beat.

Max put her hand up to Victoria’s lips, the pixie cut blonde leaned in taking a long drag off of her cigarette. Max opened her eyes to see the grey ovals morphing and bending along the air out of Vic’s mouth.

“God, you are so sexy when you do that,” Max said lowly, stealing a fast kiss on Victoria’s cheek. Victoria giggled half way through blowing the smoke rings, the rest of it coming out in a translucent haze.

Victoria made a tiny ‘boop’ on Max’s nose with her finger, “You’re sexy. . .”

Max grimaced, feigning an angry tone, “No! No boops, I hate ‘em.”

“I know, but that’s what makes it fun,” Victoria laughed, adding one extra _boop_ for good measure, Max crinkling her nose in response.

Max puffed up her lower lip, shaking her head, “ _To the moon, Vic—I swear, one a’ these days!_ ” The two women laughed, less at the actual joke and more at its corniness. Max broke out of the slow dance and walked toward the car, taking out her Polaroid camera from the back seat. “I think—we need a selfie to commemorate the occasion.”

Victoria pointed at Max, staring at her from underneath her brows, “Is this going to be in your exhibit?”

Max wiped off a bit of sand that had layered on the top of the Polaroid camera, mumbling with the cigarette in her mouth, “Of course. It’ll go with all my other selfies of us two.”

“As long as you don’t call it _My Love, My Life_.”

Max shot back a glare, “It was a working gallery title. Besides, there’s totally truth to it. You’re—my love and my life.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and give a no on that.” Victoria giggled as Max slammed the car door with her hip.

“Life with the Caulfields?” Max suggested as she walked back to Victoria, her shoe kicking a rock and casting up a dust cloud.

“There’s no in between with you. You go from sexy to dork in like point five seconds flat.”

Max grabbed her arm around Victoria while sticking the half smoked cigarette into Vic’s mouth, “Quiet you.” Stretching the camera out in front of them, Max angled it with precision to get the full landscape behind them. “Now smile.”

The camera clicked, whirring to life as a tiny square Polaroid came out the front. Max gently took it from the output, carefully not flapping the picture as she had done in days past. It took a minute or so, Max staring intently as the image filtered into from the grey while Victoria swayed ever so slightly to the music still.

Holding up the picture, Max smiled. Rock formations towered over them in monoliths punctuating the distance in a sea of stone lighthouses. The horizon stretched on forever behind them, the sun on one side of the sky and a wall of blackened clouds moving in on the other. Victoria’s blonde pixie cut was outlined by the sun on one side, her lips contorted in a smirk threatening to be a full on smile, cigarette still bunched in her mouth. Max’s brunette hair was in the midst of being caught by the wind, strands stretching across her toothy smile. It was one of Max’s favorites she had taken in a while, but honestly she had a lot of favorites when it came to pictures of her and Victoria.

She showed it to Victoria, who tapped on the face of the picture excitedly, “That’s definitely some hipstery photography if I’ve ever seen it.”

“It’s what I do,” Max said turning the photo back toward herself. “I love it.”

“Well obviously I do too,” replied Victoria.

Max strode around her, walking over to the curved guard rail, staring out into the ocean of dirt and cacti. The overlook was gorgeous, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else stopping, which was fine by Max. A beautiful desert outlook with the woman she loved all to herself.

“You’re gonna wish you put on shorts,” Victoria said interrupting Max’s moment of peace.

“Well if I knew where we were going, I probably would have dressed for the occasion,” said Max as Victoria sat down on one of the posts of the guard rail.

“I know—I know I’ve said this a million times, but you—you look beautiful in shorts.”

“Yeah, no.” Max stared down at her jeans, a slight bump underneath them thickening her left leg from the knee down.

Victoria grabbed Max’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Their fingers intertwined, a silence between them filled by nothing but wind. Max stared over at her and caught Vic’s anxious eyes moving over her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

Victoria brought Max’s hand up, kissing the back of it. “I love how beautiful every part of you is, and I mean every single part Max.”

Max stared down at Vic, “I know you do, but I just—it still feels ugly when I—I’m walking around in shorts, and people just—stare.”

“Probably because you’ve got a perfectly shaped ass.” Victoria laughed.

Max unlocked her fingers from Vic, rolling her eyes. “No, it’s always the same thing. _Look at the freak with the prosthetic foot,_ or _oh, how sad,_ or _mommy what happened to her_.”

Vic said flatly, “Fuck ‘em.”

“Look, I don’t wanna—do this conversation right now, we’re having a great day, and this just the suckiest ball of suck to talk about.”

“And I do want to talk about it because I hate when my fiancé feels like—like she’s not beautiful, when all I can do is pretty much stare at her thinking, ‘How the fuck did I get so lucky?’” Victoria stood from the post, “How many times do I have to tell you you’re pretty before you start to think it yourself?”

“When I stop feeling like a freak,” Max said shyly grabbing the outside of her arm with her other hand. “I—I mean, you already—my wedding dress already shows off my—my lack of leg, so—y’know? That’s something. . .”

“Is that bothering you?” Vic said.

Max shrugged, “It’d be a lie if I said it wasn’t on my mind.”

“Max, it’ll be us and Warren and Kate, no one is going to be there in any of those pews.” Victoria put a hand on Max’s cheek, “So—you know, think of it like you’re doing it for me. That sounds really fucking selfish, but I meant it to kinda be a sweet sentiment.”

“I just—it sounds so stupid and like old timey thinking, you know like pre bra burning sentiments but—a girl wants to—to feel like one of the most beautiful people in the room when she puts on her wedding dress.” Max shrugged Victoria off of her, “It _does_ sound stupid when I say it out loud.”

“Woa, woa, woa, no.” Victoria pointed at Max vehemently, “Not stupid. I feel hashtag killing it in my dress, and you need to feel the same way.”

“Sorry I didn’t say anything, I was like—okay with it before, but the more I think about it—like—it just keeps eating away at me.” Max shook her head, “But it’ll be fine, I mean—you’re right, no one is there.”

Victoria kissed Max gently on the cheek, “How about—we get back on the road?”

“Are you at least gonna tell me where we’re going yet?”

Victoria shook her head, stamping out her cigarette on the ground. Taking the butte along with her, she beckoned Max with her finger as she moved back toward the car. On impulse, Max held up the camera, snapping a shot of Victoria’s strut toward the car. A portrait of the power and love embodied inside of Victoria Chase. She knew it would be one of the center pieces of her new gallery as soon as she held the camera down.

**********

They had roared out of Vegas that day at about five in the morning, Victoria simply stating about their location, “It’s a surprise."

Surprises weren’t something that Max warmed up to much, and considering the prior six years, it wasn’t necessarily a shock to anyone that knew Max. If there was anyone that kept Max at ease in the knowledge that she didn’t know what was coming next, it was Victoria Chase. Mostly because Victoria was the type of person that was able to stick the landing every single time when it came to surprising Max with something good in her life.

The rental car kept a constant pace of about seventy-five along the desert highway, nothing but straight stretches, truckers, and wide open spaces to keep them company. All of the afternoon sunlight that had pierced down on them earlier in the day gave way to a flurry of dark clouds jetting in from the direction they were heading. Out in the desert, anything that wasn’t a clear blue sky was out of the ordinary. On the distant horizon, Max could make out what looked to be fog, or maybe a rain storm.

Victoria leaned forward against the steering wheel squinting her eyes, “Well—shit. I didn’t pack up umbrellas for us.”

“Understandable. It’s like—the desert. I thought they didn’t do rain out here.”

Victoria pressed both buttons for the electronic windows to whir down, “We probably have about fifteen or twenty minutes before we’re gonna hit rain, so if you want to cancer up your lungs, now would be the time to do it before we can’t put our windows down.”

“What a fine suggestion,” Max said cracking open the glove compartment and picking out a dented box of _Marlboro Lights_. “I didn’t know you were allowed to smoke in rentals,” Max said handing a cig to Vic and one for herself.

“Nope, but it’s worth the price of the cleaning fees,” Victoria muttered planting the cigarette on her lips. Max held the lighter to the ends, cherries crackling to life one after the other. “God you’re gonna be so hyped for this.”

“Ugh, all this teasing.” Max took a drag, staring off toward the storm, “What do you have in that head of yours?”

“It’s for both of us.” Victoria’s tone had become somber.

Max stared back at her, “That sounds—ominous.”

“Well, you know when I do cute, it’s not exactly teddy bears and bows.” Victoria side eyed Max for a second, “You know I’m only cute and wholesome’s neighbor, never invited over for dinner.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. At Christmas you were all decked out in a Mrs. Claus outfit.”

Victoria chuckled, “Cute wasn’t what I was aiming for, it just kind of happened accidentally.”

Thinking back on the situation, Max blushed a little. “That’s—I mean—it was still. . .kinda. . .cute. . .”

“Well, this isn’t exactly Mrs. Claus, and maybe cute isn’t even like the right word.” Victoria’s hand wavered as she struggled to find the correct way to say it, “More--Painfully us.”

It had taken another few hours for them to finally reach their destination, but the threatening rain over head never did anything more than bluster. The rental car pulled into a vaguely marked parking spot. In the distance, Max’s eyes grew wide when she caught site of where they were at.

Victoria moved her phone from beside the steering wheel, aiming the GPS on the screen to Max, “We’re here.”

“Salvation Mountain,” Max said peeking the screen, then staring at the tiny mountain in the distance.

“I’m glad the weather held out, I was getting just a little worried there they’d close this place up,” Victoria said unbuckling her seat belt.

“Oh—baby,” Max said, leaning over the gear shift and giving Victoria a kiss on the lips. Max unbuckled her seat belt, “I—I can’t believe it.”

“Eh—seemed like the right thing to do. Just a quick five and a half hour drive from Vegas.” Victoria smiled, pointing at the door, “Y’know, you can actually get out and walk over there from here.”

Max flinched from the spell she was under, “Oh—Yeah, yeah, let’s go!”

“Just one second,” Victoria said, reaching between the two back seats. From out of her black back pack, she unzipped the front pocket, pulling out a tiny wooden box. “We have some things to do—and you need to grab your camera.”

“Did you think in some universe I wasn’t going to grab it?”

“I dunno, you seem a little shocked right now,” Victoria said, placing the Polaroid camera in Max’s lap, and clutching the box to her chest. It was just big enough that it fit in both of Vic’s palms, but it wasn’t very thick either. Whatever was inside was small. “Come on.”

They exited the car, making their way toward the large slab of rock, painted over in a rainbow of colors. Nearing it, Max could read a word in bold pink letters across the front of it, _LOVE_. At the top was a massive cross, and underneath the pink lettering was the biggest painted heart that Max had ever seen.

“This—this is beautiful,” Max said, eyes full of wonder.

“It’s worth it to see you stare like that.” Victoria nudged her with an elbow, “Gimme your hand, dork.”

Max felt Victoria’s tiny fingers mesh around hers, wind blowing off the far plains causing their hair to dance in strands. Near the base of the man made mountain of latex paint, Max stared around at a few other couples and families snapping pictures, and smiling, and laughing. It was an oddly wholesome thing for Vic and Max to do together, which wasn’t particularly ever their style. Their friendship had been forged under less than ideal circumstances, two broken people desperately attempting to cling onto a human life raft among the tidal waves of their existences. Drunken nights, chain smoking, sobbing into each other’s arms; all part of the journey, all part of their story.

With the families and couples, and all of the text painted along the rocks talking about _God_ and _Jesus_ , it felt like they were just a regular couple on vacation. The two of them in a little family of their own, Max with camera in hand to take pictures so they could capture their own family memories.

“I wish I woulda brought my guitar.” Max stared at an old hippie couple, their wild unfettered hair whipping in the wind over top of their dye shirts. “Some of these people probably would have loved it. . .”

“You say that, but I can barely get you to play for me, especially that new song you’ve been working on for like a million years,” Victoria pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

They headed up to the mountain, staring at the religious iconography. Even though there was a lot of talk about Jesus and God, there was something bigger than all that about this place. It emanated spirit. It spoke to a past that was more optimistic than the cynicism filled days of getting stuck in gridlock city traffic or paying rental bills that sky rocketed constantly. It’s what had always drawn Max to this place, the want of just that optimistic view of the world.

Maybe in her mind, it was also a place of her salvation. Ship wrecked spirits carefully drifted ashore, peering up to the heavens, a clear sky answering back that perhaps things were going to be okay. Maybe Max was also a little too much of an art school philosopher. Staring at Victoria’s face, her gaze seemed just as in awe of the beauty. There was an innocence in Victoria that Max always knew was there, but it so rarely came to the surface for other people to see.

The two women walked around pointing out different written words on the stone, or stopping momentarily for Max to snap a picture with Victoria still being the primary subject. Then they entered the tunneled area, rock stretching between the walls in webbed strands.

“It feels like we’re outside of time, here.” Victoria shook her head, rubbing her hand against one of the rough painted walls, “Like we’ve gone back to the sixties, or like—how I always imagined the sixties probably were.”

“Going back in time has its draw backs.” Victoria stared over at Max with a confused look. “I just mean—if it were the sixties, we wouldn’t be getting married tomorrow.”

“True, but—y’know, there’s a certain charm.”

“Okay, I hate to get all _Seven_ here, but—what’s in the box?” Max pointed to the flat wooden box Victoria had brought from the car.

“It’s for later,” she replied staring up at one of the hearts.

“C’mon.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow, her half lidded eyes tracing Max as she neared, “No, no, you can wait. It’s—I dunno, it’s special.”

“You seem nervous or something.” Max reached for the box, “Please?”

Pulling the box away from Max’s hand, Victoria said, “Okay, but not in here. Let’s go back out there.”

Victoria wandered back out around the mountain quickly, Max following behind closely. They came back toward the front, Victoria surveying around the area as if on a mission. Glancing back at Max, she snagged her hand, yanking her toward bushes over near the car. Max kept glancing back as the mountain drew away from them, unsure of what was about to happen. Once they were a few feet from the car, Victoria peered around to make certain no one was watching.

“Why do I feel like we’re about to commit a felony?” Max giggled nervously, because there might have been some truth to the question.

“When has that ever stopped us in the past,” Victoria mentioned. She aimed the box toward Max, staring down on its top. “Open it.”

Max gently twisted the tiny latch on the front, slowly opening it. Silk red lining inside the box held three objects. There was a tiny bottle of whisky, still sealed. Beside of it inside a plastic baggy was one single pill, an Adderall pill that Max was far too familiar with. In the center was a necklace that had three bullets strung onto it. Although it wasn’t exactly the same as the necklace seared into Max’s memories, the symbol was obvious.

“What—what is this?” Already Max was choking up.

“At the—the altar of—of Salvation Mountain, y’know—our—I don’t wanna say sins, but—the things that—affected our lives, and—I don’t know—letting go?” Victoria shook her head, “That’s—that’s not the right way to put it, I’m not asking you to let go of—of her, y’know. . .”

Max picked up the bullet necklace delicately. “Chloe?”

“Yeah. I know you still have her necklace, so I had to make my own. It’s so she could--watch over us so we don’t do the _other_ stuff in the box again. Like—an offering to her.

Placing the necklace in the center of the red silk lining, Max was speechless under a veil of tears.

“Don’t—no, don’t cry.” Victoria closed the box, kicking a pebble aside, “I didn’t want you to cry.”

“No, I just—I love you so much, and—and how you thought of Chloe. . .”

“Well, I didn’t know her like super well, but—but she loved you, and you loved her.” Victoria sighed in exasperation, “I never want you to think that I like feel jealous of her, and sometimes I think you wonder about that. I don’t feel jealous, I’m grateful that she—loved you and took care of you, because—Jesus Max, you’re the best person I’ve ever met.” She couldn’t meet Max’s gaze, her eyes staring off toward the nothingness of the desert expanse. “And maybe part of me wants her to be okay with me—not replacing her—because no one could replace her, but—but I want her to be okay with me loving you too. Because you deserve to be loved. Fuck, when we kiss, I feel like I worship at your body like it’s an altar, like you’re sacred—‘cause you are sacred to me--and if Chloe can help me keep you safe from way on high. . .”

Max nodded silently, her lips a tense line as streams of tears flitted from her cheeks down off of her chin. “Do you—uhm—what do you want to do?”

“I wanted to bury it here.” She pointed over at the mountain, “We can’t do it nearby, because this is definitely not legal, so we need to be stealthy.”

Max handed her camera to Victoria, kneeling by the bush and scooping at the dirt with her hands. She couldn’t quite break the surface of the ground, as it was a little too dry without any thing to dig at it with.

“Do we have anything in the car we can. . .” Thunder rumbled causing Max’s sentence to end prematurely. The clouds that had been building all day suddenly broke, rain spilling down in immediately thick drops.

“Fuck!” Victoria said with her body angling toward the rental car.

“Wait!” Max yelled.

The dirt soaked into a muddy mess quickly under the heavy downpour. Max immediately knelt down, digging into the soggy mess with both hands, enough to break the surface. Water poured into the dry hole, and it helped to soak deeper into the ground. Once it was deep enough, Max held a hand out toward Victoria. The drenched pixie cut girl handed Max the box. Once it was in place, she smoothed the soaked dirt back into the hole, covering it up.

Victoria grabbed Max’s muddy hand, helping her up from the ground. The two were already soaked, so they didn’t bother running back. Besides, the rain felt cold and wonderful. Hand in hand they strode along, Max’s camera probably ruined. It didn’t matter. They were washed anew. Together.

As they broke hands to go to the separate sides of the car, Max could have sworn she saw a blue butterfly flit between them.

**May 15 th 2019**

It was a wonder how in the hell Kate could sleep with the sunlight burning a white hot streak across the bed. Max tried to close her eyes tightly against the overly bright invader taking control of the hotel room as Kate just gently stirred beside of her under the covers, snoring lightly.

Upholding wedding traditions was stupid in Vic’s eyes, but she had lovingly gone along with it because Max had requested. The bride wasn’t supposed to see the _other_ bride the night before the wedding, and that definitely meant no staying together over the night. Although it felt silly picking Warren and Kate up from the airport on the way back from _Salvation Mountain_ , after spending the entire day together, only to separate once they came back to the hotel. So the sentiment was a little broken.

Max opened her eyes, cursing the sun under her breath. On top of the room which looked like someone had over cranked the brightness on their monitor, her stomach had a storm of butterflies in it. The wedding was going to be later that afternoon, and though she was more than excited for it, it signified change. Change rarely hit Max well, even when it was an event that should be celebrated.

Max reached into the crook of her arm, yanking out the stuffed Eevee doll and setting it on the night stand. Underneath the confines of the fat, fluffy comforter, her limbs created rolling hills as she stretched for the first time of the morning. Slowly leaning up from the bed, Max felt the familiar ache pulsing in her left leg. Cautiously moving the bedding off of her so as to not wake Kate up, Max stared at her legs, wiggling the toes of her right foot playfully.

She slid her legs over the edge of the mattress. A slight whimper climbed out of her body as she stretched both arms into the air, arching her chest forward to reach that morning nirvana. Releasing the stretch, she rubbed her eyes, as well as a crusted line of drool that had apparently escaped for freedom over the course of the night.

Kneeling over to the nightstand, Max opened the top drawer. Her hand dodging past the bible that was inside the drawer, out of it she grabbed a fresh roll of white guaze tied together with a strand of tape. She glanced down at her left leg. Below her knee, the calf came out to a straightened end, rounding up just above where a foot used to be.

 _Nothing like those little reminders on a good day,_ Max thought.

Unwrapping the rolled guaze bandage, she stared at where her leg abruptly ended. There was a ball at the tip, topped off with scars that still made Max shutter internally. Taking the strip of gauze, she began to wrap the bandage around the old amputation, which had become routine in her mornings. When it was all synched up, she took two metal grippers to hold the bandage in place.

Kneeling down to the outer edge of the nightstand, Max picked up her prosthetic leg. It formed the rest of her calf, jetting up to her knee, giving her the ability to bend at the joint. Slipping the leg into the hole of the prosthetic, she tightened it up in a few places to make certain it was secure.

“Morning,” chirped Kate’s tiny voice behind Max.

“Morning,” Max replied, making sure the prosthetic was perfectly tightened, pulling down the left pant leg of her night shorts.

“Did you,” and Kate couldn’t finish the sentence because of a massive yawn taking her over. “Oh—sorry, did you—did you sleep well?”

“Sleep isn’t like—something I do as a normal thing, so. . .” Max’s lips scrunched into a small frown, “So we’ll just say no.”

“You should have kept me awake with you!” Kate slid up the bed, adjusting her pillows against the headboard, “Maybe you could have played guitar.”

“I didn’t bring it. I get like anxious at airports, so I don’t pack some stuff just because of the security.” Max stood up from the bed, walking over to an ornate round table next to a recleiner chair and a standing lamp. “You want coffee,” Max said leaning down to grab a sealed bag with a tiny pouch of coffee. She stared at the coffee maker, a creaking noise escaping her throat as her tired brain attempted to put together how she was supposed to go about actually making the coffee.

“No,” Kate said. “Warren told me that coffee machines in hotels are not a good idea to use.”

“Oh jeez,” Max giggled as she started to read the instructions on the package.

“Well it’s just—so—I don’t know about this, but—but he said that women use it to clean their underwear when—when it’s—you know, that— _that_ time. .”

Pausing, Max turned back toward Kate holding the coffee pouch limply. “When they’re having their period?”

“Well, uh.” Red rainbowed across Kate’s nose and cheeks. She stared out the window, “Yeah.”

“Did you tell him that sounds like a stupid made up thing, because it totally does.” Max turned back toward the coffee machine. It seemed to be a single server, with foam cups wrapped in plastic bags neighboring.

“Well, that’s what he said.” The embarrassed blonde shrugged, still locked on the morning sunrise in Las Vegas.

“Well, let me just say, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that with this coffee maker.” Max ripped open the package the pouch was in, content that she learned how this thing worked. Tearing one of the bags that a cup was in, she went toward the doorway of the hotel room, sink and bathroom adjacent to the closet. As she turned on the sink pouring water into the cup, Max continued, “How do you think he slept?”

“With one eye open and terrified.”

Max turned the sink off, poking her head around the corner at Kate with a look of betrayal. “Is that a knock at Vic?”

“I’m not—it’s not—it’s not an insult to her, it’s me just saying that I think Warren is still a little terrified of her.” Kate stretched, and Max could see the outlines of her toes hilling up under the comforter. “She can be a little—intimidating.”

Max walked back to the table, “She’s not the same girl she was in high school, Kate.”

Kate held her hands up, “No, no, I’m not—really, it’s just more about who he is rather than who she is—if—if that makes any sense. Besides, Victoria and I have _more_ than gotten over our stupid high school stuff. . .”

Max poured the contents of the cup into the back slot of the coffee machine. Near the top was a little drawer like container for the coffee pouch, and she slid it in hesitantly. Putting the cup under the spout, she clicked the red button upward, illuminating it to life. The machine sighed and churned.

Max shrugged, “Anyway, we gotta meet up with her and Warren in a little while for breakfast.” Looking back at Kate, Max could see the girl rummaging through the messages on her phone. “Everything good at the home front?”

Kate nodded still drawn into the screen of her phone, “I—I don’t know why I’m stressing about being gone.”

“First time away,” said Max. “I mean—that totally makes sense.”

Kate flopped the phone down beside her on the bed with a deep sigh, “It felt so nice to get a full night of sleep for once.”

“And you guys will have this room all to yourself tonight, and hopefully if you’re lucking not too much sleep. I know _we_ won’t be sleeping much.” Max giggled while steam rose out of the sputtering coffee maker, “That suite is kinda unreal, by the way. I’m pretty sure I could roll a few times from the corner of the bed and still not be close to touching Vic.” Staring around the room they were in, Max crinkled her nose, “Maybe—maybe we should have gotten you guys a suite too, though. . .”

“No, no,” Kate said. “I don’t like big, wide open rooms. I need smaller rooms to feel cozy. .” Kate’s phone suddenly buzzed to life, a mechanical default ring tone blasting at full volume. She jumped a little, quickly pressing the talk button, “H—Hello?”

Max sipped on the freshly made coffee. She walked over and sat back down on the side of the bed.

“Oh—let me—I’m gonna. . .” Kate held the phone away, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She stared for a second at the screen and then pressed a button.

“—and Max is probably not awake yet. Hello? Are you still there?” Victoria’s voice was coming out of the speaker now.

“I am too awake! And with coffee in hand—coffee, coffee, coffee.” Max made a show of slurping into the cup as loudly as she could.

“Dude, did you use the maker?” Warren’s voice worriedly came over the speaker.

“Warren—I would never use one of thoses makers because of the shitty coffee, but there is no way on this Earth that a girl would do that—that’s some stupid boy shit they say on Reddit,” Victoria interrupted.

Kate nodded at Max with a smirk, “So he told you the coffee maker story too?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Kate and Max could hear Victoria saying something to Warren a little far away from the speaker, and it sounded taunting. “Also Kate, this suite is huge, and Warren sounded like he was starting a chainsaw clear over on the couch.”

“Well, I like his little stories and his chainsaw snoring,” Kate said defiantly.

“Which is why you two make an obnoxiously fucking cute married couple,” Victoria replied, Warren yelling out a _‘Booyeah!’_ on the other end.

Max scooted across the bed, leaning into the phone, “Do you think we’re an obnoxiously fucking cute soon-to-be married couple, Vic?”

“Yes,” both Kate and Warren replied together from both ends of the phone.

“Sweet,” Max said sitting back on the headboard, flinching as a little coffee from her cup dribbled the front of her shirt.

“So we have to be ready to go at the church by three o’clock, which means you need to be ready to go at two o’clock Max.” Victoria’s tone had suddenly shifted to her business meeting mode.

“Why do I have to be ready so early?” Max asked.

“Because as much as I love you, you’d be fucking late for your presidential acceptance speech if you were elected.” Victoria then added briskly, “Kate, keep my love in check.”

“Aye, aye,” Kate chirped putting her hand up in a salute as she beamed over at Max.

“I’m not that bad,” said Max lowly as she sipped her cup.

“So—get ready. It’s—it’s just a little past nine. Let’s meet up for breakfast at ten and go from there. Talk to you guys soon!”

“Bye--” Warren’s voice cut off as the line went dead.

Max sipped her coffee loudly. “Underwear in the coffee maker, he says?”

Kate nodded, “Yeah.”

Max looked down at the cup, “With how awful this coffee is, that actually makes some kind of sense to me right now. . .”

 

********

Breakfast went by quickly, the two couples enjoying the morning sun at an outdoor restaurant patio together. It was some French place that Victoria said was supposed to be amazing, and the girl definitely was right. Plus, the coffee was much better there than whatever brown water the maker had spit out earlier that morning into Max’s cup.

From breakfast, things moved quickly as Kate and Max separated from Warren and Victoria. Max and Warren switched luggage out at their respective rooms. Then they had gotten to the church incredibly early, a big place near the edge of the Strip. It was gorgeous in its own way, but it was definitely built for quick smash and grab weddings that Vegas was known for. Near the outside, there was a sign that said _Get Married Today or Tonight!_

Aside from the sign, the inside was classy at least. It still gave off the fakeness of a theme park façade, but in an elegant way. Rather than stone columns, you could see they were built from plaster. Reality just a hair to the left. Along the center aisle between the pews, a long red carpet stretched toward the altar. Ornate flowers lined the front of the altar.

The priest, Bob, seemed to be a nice man, if a little all business about the entire situation. He seemed most excited to talk about all the different kinds of couples and weddings he’d facilitated over the years. Apparently theme weddings were really what he was into. Especially the time he presided as _Darth Vader_ over two men getting together dressed as storm troopers. It sounded funny, but the way he spoke of it was with the flourishing romance found in novels, an odd amount of reverence for something so many people would find strange.

In one of the dressing rooms down the hallway from the main church, Kate had easily gotten into her bride’s maid dress, a simple slip dress with a band of green around her waist.

“No, just—why are there so many buttons in the back!?” Max yelled at her dress, while Kate diligently snapped each button together.

“It looks gorgeous on you,” Kate mentioned, staring over Max’s shoulder as they looked into a mirror.

“I guess,” Max said as the final button snapped between her shoulder blades. Max stared in the mirror for a second, her eyes lingering where the dress cut off down at her knees. “Man. . .”

Kate curved around in front of her, “What’s wrong?”

“The—the leg. Vic wants me to—to—show it off, she—thinks it’s—fine, or beautiful or whatever. . .”

“Give me one second.” Moving over to a couch lining the wall on the opposite side of the room, Kate reached into her bag, pulling out a set of white tights.

“Well Vic said--I dunno,” Max said slapping her hands to her thighs.

“Well she handed me this morning before we got here—apparently because she said she wanted you to feel beautiful, even though, and I quote, ‘Max is the most beautiful—uhm—efffing creature on the plane.” Kate moved over toward Max. She knelt down, sliding off Max’s heels gently. “Give me you foot.”

“Oh. Okay,” Max said holding out her leg.

Kate bunched up the white panty hoes, sliding one foot in and then the other. Max reached down, rolling them the rest of the way up. When she was done, Kate adjusted the lower trim of the dress, making certain that it laid perfectly across Max’s thighs. From there, Max stared into the mirror.

“Woa,” Max said finally taking in her full form in the reflection.

“Do you feel better?”

Max nodded, “Yeah, yes, I—it’s stupid, but—I feel normal like this. Not that—not that I’m not normal, but like—beautiful. Actually beautiful.”

“You always are,” Kate said wrapping Max into a warm embrace from behind.

There was a knock at the door, “Is everyone—uhm—decent?” It was Warren.

“Come in, hon,” Kate called back.

Entering, decked out in a tuxedo that actually made him look great, Warren trailed into the room holding Victoria’s hand. Victoria had her eyes closed tightly.

“See Max, I have my eyes closed,” Victoria said pointing toward her face. “I’m doing your thing, even though I don’t know why! Can’t see the bride in her dress. . .even though I’m a bride too, but whatever. . .”

Max giggled, “What do I owe the honor of having Ms. Chase closing her eyes to come to my dressing room?”

“I—I’ll let you get finished, but I just—I needed to do one thing, and then we’ll—go to our separate ring corners.” Victoria tugged on Warren’s hand, causing him to take her closer to Max. “If either of you two laughs, I swear to God I’m gonna punch you.”

Kate stifled a laugh, holding a hand to her mouth. Gently, Victoria knelt down in front of Max, her hand reaching out for her left leg. She leaned in hesitantly, red burning the front of her face from forehead to chin. Pouting her lips, she gave Max’s prosthetic leg a kiss. Kate’s giggle suddenly changed as her eyes became shrink wrapped in tears at the sight.

Max slowly helped Victoria to her feet. She took Victoria’s left arm carefully, and cautiously held it as the treasure it was. Max brought her lips to Vic’s forearm, kissing a dark line that went down its length. She put her forehead to Victoria’s, and pressed against her quietly. It was a ritual the two had lived out many mornings, and Victoria wasn’t about to let it not happen before the wedding.

“I love you,” Max said.

“I love you too,” Victoria replied, her eyes still closed.

Warren, also teary eyed at the exchange, slowly took Victoria out of the room, the door closing behind them quietly. Max turned around toward the mirror, her breath suddenly becoming hard to get into her lungs.

“Max, are you okay?” Kate walked up to Max, noticing how her skin had suddenly gone ashen.

“I just—I—I don’t know, I’m—happy, I’m like—I—I don’t. . .I shouldn’t—I need to go to the rest room.” Max was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, buzzing past Kate, who stood trying to diagnose what just happened.

Max went out into the hallway. Each step was walking into quick sand, her lungs struggling to find air. Max grabbed her chest, a wheezing noise on each intake of breath. She felt along the wall to keep upright as a snow storm of silver dots flooded her vision.

Reaching the bathroom door, Kate saying something behind her at a far distance, she weakly opened it and almost fell through. She slammed the door tightly.

Grasping the sink with both hands, Max gagged as rising bile threatened to erupt from her stomach. She swallowed hard a few times, desperately fighting against the tide.

_What the fuck is happening to me? Why am I freaking out?_

Looking up at the mirror over top of the sink, Max stared at her reflection. A sudden pain shot into her head, causing her to reel backward. Then she felt the trickle oozing over her lips, the smell and taste of copper invading her sinuses. Max saw the thick stream of blood draining from her nose.

The world around her suddenly shifted and churned in colors she hadn’t seen for years. Her brain had that familiar pressure of when she used to be able to rewind. Voices echoed around her, just bits and pieces of sentence fragments. Victoria, Kate, Warren. . .

She closed her eyes. “This isn’t—right, is it?”

Opening her eyes, she saw a blue butterfly in the mirror. Its reflection got closer and closer, but there didn’t seem to be a butterfly actually in front of Max, just in the mirror. Suddenly it broke the surface of the glass, flying out into the room. One butterfly, then two, then three—and before she knew it, the room was filled with flapping wings.

“Wait—wait—Help!” Max cried out, running toward the door, but it was locked.

_“Max!”_

She knew the voice. It was Chloe. But it wasn’t coming from a source, it was all around her, like the walls were speaking.

Staring around wild eyed, Max called out, “What’s happening?”

_“Max!”_

“Please, get me out of here!”

The butterflies swarmed around Max, thousands of them, so many that she couldn’t even see their forms anymore, just a blur of glowing blue all around her. There was so much blood coming out from her nose, and a crimson glob exploded from her mouth, the pressure in her head increasing until her vision was almost—

  ** _Once upon a time. . . ._**

**_Max. . . ._ **

****

**_Chloe. . ._ **

**** **_Victoria_ ** **_?_ **

****

**_. . .the end._ **

**_The end. . . ._ **

**** **_Victoria_ ** **_?_ **

****

**_Chloe. . ._ **

****

**_Max._ **

****

**_Once upon a time there was a girl named Max._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
> 
> Someone I loved once gave me  
> a box full of darkness.
> 
> It took me years to understand  
> that this, too, was a gift."
> 
> \--Mary Oliver
> 
> Couple things—the coffee maker underwear story was a stupid thing a friend of mine told me once. I lifted some of that conversation word for word from her, so credit due to her. I thought it was something silly that Warren would believe.
> 
> With the paint scene starting this chapter, there’s some heavy stuff in there. Remember that you're worthy of love, my friends. Self and otherwise.
> 
> Cheers.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> 'broken heart'


End file.
